


Words.

by illicio



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illicio/pseuds/illicio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written in 2008.  Random word generator self-prompting.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Words.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008. Random word generator self-prompting.

 

 

 

 

### Motives

        "That guy's got interior motives."

        "Ulterior," supplies Heine, because Badou is an idiot.

        "Nah, I meant interior," he answers, sentence broken by the way he sucks away a good half-centimeter from the cigarette in his mouth. "You see the way he bends his wrist?"

 

 

 

### Assignment

        Badou's apartment, 12:45am. The dull drone of a news channel sweeps across the room like an undertow, unable to be seen from the surface.

        "You ever get the feelin'..." Badou's right hand lifts to the air and he makes some grand elaborate gesture that essentially means nothing. Heine's dog-tired eyes follow the glowstick-like trail the cigarette's burning end makes in the air, like it's a treat he's waiting to be tossed to him.

        Badou doesn't notice, because he's looking at the ceiling.

        "...I mean, you ever get the feelin' you're like fifteen years younger than you really are, sittin' in some kinda snobby school and sittin' at the desk, starin' down at a piece of returned homework paper an' the only point you got right on it was your name and the teacher even fucked that one up, 'cause you didn't even add the last damn letter of your surname?"

        Heine's eyes shift from Badou's cigarette to his face, silent, because for once he doesn't know what to say.

        "Yeah," Badou responds before Heine can think of an answer, because he already knows. When the cigarette is snug between his lips, he bares his teeth in a grin and finishes: "Me neither."

 

 

 

### Cities

        They're impossible to count.

        So many lights.

        Some stay on; others go off and when others turn off, new ones turn on. It's like civilization is trying to prove something -- that all these buildings were a good idea after all; that the hum and buzz of humanity is just as beautiful as miles of untouched land and an endless sky of fireflies and blinking stars.

        It's times like these he finds himself wishing Heine wasn't such a limp dick about coming to the surface.

 

 

 

### Cycles

        "Cycle."

        "Bicycle."

        "Tricycle."

        "Recycle."

        "Kilocycle."

        "Gigacycle."

        "Pericycle."

        "Monocycle."

        "Megacycle."

        "Epicycle."

        "Heterocycle."

        "Antiparticle."

        "How the hell do you even know so many big words?! That one doesn't count!"

        Nill's left wing twitches, because Badou's voice is a break in the otherwise steady cycle of words that have been drumming on for at least two minutes. She can't see either of them behind the closed door, but she can hear their voices and the way they've become more competitive and heated.

        She tilts her eyes down and looks at the dirt particles on the floor, mouth curved into a soft impression of a smile, ghost-like and liable to disappear at a moment's notice.

        Peacefully, she continues to sweep like cleaning up after the dirt Badou and Heine track into the church is the best thing that has ever happened to her.

        And it is.

        "It ends in 'cle.' Stop talking and take your turn, unless you can't think of anything."

        " _Icicle._ "

        "Pentacle."

        " _Pinnacle_."

        "Popsicle."

        " _Monocle_."

        "Cuticle."

        " _Chronicle_."

        "Manacle."

        There is a deep, deadly silence.

        Nill pauses and looks at the door. If she could speak, although she is in debt to Heine, even she would have had the urge to help. _Particle, Badou! Particle ends in 'cle' and it hasn't been used yet!_

        "... _wadamacallacle_."

        "...that's not a word."

        "Yeah it is."

        "Yeah, one you made up."

        "No, it's right here in the dictionary."

        "It doesn't count if you've just written it in the margins, you idiot!"

        Nill's smile becomes wider when she continues to sweep.

        She holds many of Heine's darkest feelings. In some way, perhaps, she loves him and appreciates him from the bottom of her heart -- but she appreciates Badou more than he knows for the things she can't do that he can.

        Heine himself doesn't know it, but Nill does: Badou makes him feel like a human.

 

 

 

### Kidding

        Pea soup, Badou thinks. He never thought he'd apply a cliché to this kind of situation, but the the thick taste in the air is just like trying to choke down a mouthful of foul pea soup.

        He inhales a deep breath through his nose, sacrificing his sense of smell so he won't have to forfeit his tongue. "Smells like shit," he says, because that's a constructive comment that's definitely going to make the situation burst into rainbows and sunshine.

        Heine's trying to think (and it's not working out so well, because Badou won't say anything useful.) He doesn't snap yet, but that's because he's so far gone into a mood as foul as the air. "See anything yet?"

        "Fuck no," spits Badou, whose mood is on par with Heine's. "What're you askin' me for? You've got two eyes. Think I'm hidin' some all-seein' omnipotent comic book character eye?"

        The voice seems to come from all around, ominous and dark like the beginning of the world when God created the great divide between Good and Evil. There's something inherently wicked about it and Badou can't place exactly what it is that makes it sound like there are a few screws missing not only from that collar around Heine's neck, but several places in his head.

        Badou can't see Heine in front of him, either, which makes it even worse.

        "When we get back," it says, "I'm gonna slam a magic 8-ball in your empty hole. Then, when I ask a question, all I gotta do is punch your fucking head and look at you for a better answer."

        Badou can feel a shiver shaking up his spine like a wet dog, but before he can even think of stopping himself, he blurts, "Outlook not so good."

        Silence, for a moment.

        After that moment follows a longer stretch of silence -- or, at least, that's what it would have sounded like to anyone else.

        Badou can hear it: the sound of Heine's shoulders shaking and the brief feral bark of quiet laughter.


End file.
